


The Gilded Lily

by hayj



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, Western AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 09:48:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21847705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hayj/pseuds/hayj
Summary: Sebastian Monroe heads to The Gilded Lily to investigate a gang of robbers.
Relationships: Charlie Matheson/Bass Monroe
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's time for the yearly Christmas dump of google docs into a dead fandom. Enjoy

Sebastian Monroe slowly woke to the feel of a satin coverlet drawn up to his chest and a warmed perfumed body splayed beside him. He considered the merits of going back to his house for a few hours of sleep or waking the woman beside him and going another round before heading to Frank’s office for a hush, hush meeting that his secretary insisted he not be late for. 

Pushing up to his elbows, he looked around the room, searching for his stray clothes. He was grateful there was enough light to see around the room without having to light a lamp. 

Wait. 

Why was there so much light? 

Hadn’t he just blown the lamp out a bit ago?

Oh, Shit. That was sunlight streaming in behind the heavy drapes that blanketed the room.

That meant it was past daybreak. That meant he had fallen asleep and spent the entire night. 

Oh, Shit. 

Throwing the covers aside, he leapt to his feet. Gathering up his clothes, he hit the door dressing. Reaching the street, he looked around frantically for a hansom cab.

Finding one, Bass waved for the driver’s attention while trying to get his string tie around his throat. When the hansom reached him, Bass climbed in, calling out, “Federal Building and I am in one hell of a hurry, Mister!” 

The driver shook his head in amusement, accustomed to seeing disheveled men dash out of this particular hotel. Snapping his whip over the ears of his horse the cab jerked forward and settled into a brisk trot through Austin’s early morning traffic. 

By the time the hansom came to a stop in front of the building facing Sixth street, he was dressed from the tip of his brown Stetson all the way down to his calf high cavalry boots. 

Stepping out onto the road, he fished a coin out of his pocket and handed it to the driver. “Much obliged.”

He took the steps two at a time and quickly made his way to Frank Blanchard's first floor office. 

“You’re late. Again,” Frank's, clerk, Ed Truman remarked as Bass walked up to his desk. 

“Has he called for me yet?” Bass asked, hanging his hat on the hat rack next to the door. 

“No. You got lucky.” Ed grinned, “Again.”

“I got caught in traffic.”

“Uh huh,” Ed replied, looking up at Bass with a smirk. “Regardless of the reason, I still suggest you wipe the lipstick off your face.”

“Shit,” Bass mumbled, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket to scrub his face. 

“Ed! Is Monroe here, yet?” Blanchard bellowed from inside his office. 

“Right here, Boss,” Bass replied as he casually strode into Frank’s office, taking a seat in front of the large man’s desk. 

“You look like hell,” Frank said, from where he stood behind his desk.

“Good morning to you, too, Frank.” 

Frank frowned. “You couldn’t even bother to shave.” 

“Do you really want an explanation?” 

“No,” Frank replied with a shake of his head. 

Taking a seat, Frank leaned forward over his desk. “I’ve got an assignment for you, but it’s not your typical assignment and I don’t necessarily want you to make any arrests. I’m  sending you up North to look into some irregularities.”

“What kid of irregularities?” Bass asked, pulling out a cheroot and lighting it.

“We think the Sheriff’s dirty,” Frank explained. 

“Exactly where are we talking, Frank?”

“Willoughby.”

“Mason Grey?” Bass asked. “Nice fella as I recall. What’s the problem?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Frank said, leaning back in his chair. “Grey does his duty, and picks up any fugitives he finds, Willoughby being the crossroads it is, but there’s one gang that he just cannot seem to find. Any traces of them seem to disappear in the wind.”

“And you think he’s in cahoots with them?” 

  
  


Frank sighed. “It seems likely. What I need is someone to go up there, take a good look around and report back. Like I said, I don’t need you to make any arrests, I just need you to figure out what's going on.  The Boss has authorized funds to provide a cover story. Try to figure out something you’d be comfortable with, short of a whiskey salesman.”

“How’d ya know?” Bass replied with a smirk.

“Gamblers out of the question as well. The treasury would never recover.” 

Bass rolled his eyes. “Sure you don’t want someone else?”

“You’ll take the morning train,” Frank replied dryly. “That’ll give Ed time to make your arrangements. You’ll need cash and you’ll need a way to contact us if there’s a problem. Go home and do whatever packing you need to do and be back here after lunch.”

“Yes, Sir,” Bass replied, giving a lazy salute before leaving the office.

* * *

“You’re a land speculator,” Ed informed him the next morning. 

“But I wanted to be a horse trader,” Bass pouted. “Worked it out in my head and everything.” 

Ed rolled his eyes. “Here’s your business cards. The address is mine in case you need to mail something and while the telegraphic address doesn’t look like it, it will reach us here at the office. Spread them out between your bag and your person. They should pass for the real thing.” Opening his desk drawer, Ed pulled out a canvas money belt. “It goes under your clothes,” he reminded the man with an arched eyebrow. 

“You get drunk once...” Bass mumbled. 

“That’s twelve hundred dollars in gold double eagles. I would think that would suffice, but, if you need more, send a wire to your office address and I can arrange a bank transfer. However, mind that you don’t spend too much. You’re not the one that has to hear about it. Here’s your train ticket to Dallas, then you’ll take the coach west to Eastland and then North to Willoughby,” Ed explained.

“It’s a bustling little town thanks to the stagecoach hub there. Should be easy to blend in and poke around.”

Frank, who had obviously been eavesdropping, emerged from his office. “Just keep in mind that you aren’t traveling as a Texas Ranger. You’re just another private citizen. Keep your nose clean, and stay out of trouble.”

Bass gave the man a smile and a wink. “No problem, Boss. You know me.”

“Uh huh,” Frank replied with a grimace, disappearing back into his office.

“That should be everything,” Ed said as Bass turned back towards him. “Try not to miss your train.”

* * *

“Fort Worth, Eastland and points beyond!” The stagecoach driver called from his perch. 

“Here!” Bass replied from where he stood on the covered porch in front of the train station with his newly purchased stagecoach ticket. 

“And here,” a lady’s voice said from behind him. 

Monroe turned to find the same statuesque blond that he had been admiring all the way up from Austin. Just his luck to be trapped with her a bit longer. He could think of worse things to look at than this blonde, stylish creature. He could also think of better things then merely looking at her. 

Mostly, he wondered what she would look like without those clothes. Her linen duster hid the details of her figure, but he imagined she’d have a pair of plump, perky tits underneath all those layers of clothes and he did enjoy a set of perky tits. Enjoyed other things as well. 

Walking over to the coach, he tossed his carpet bag to the driver who stowed it on top of the vehicle. Taking the lady’s bag from her, Bass passed it up as well before assisting the blonde into the coach, climbing in behind her. 

“Are you going far?” the lady asked once she was settled. 

“I’m headed up to Willoughby. Yourself?”

“I am as well. My father is the doctor there.” 

“If you need anything, I’d be happy to oblige you, ma’am.”

“You’re very kind, Mr…?”

“King. James King.”

“I can see you’re a gentleman, Mr. King. It’ll be a pleasure traveling with you, I’m sure. My name is Rachel Porter,” she said, extending a gloved hand for him to shake. 

Monroe touched her fingers and smiled. This promised to be a most enjoyable ride. 

“Are you folks settled down there?” The driver called. 

Monroe tilted his head in Miss Porters direction and received a nod in reply. “We’re all set!” he called, ducking his head out the window. 

The driver snapped his whip and the coach lurched forward with a bounce and sway.

* * *

They hadn’t gone very far, when Miss Porter, yawned. “I’m so sorry I’m not a better traveling companion, but I’ve been away from home for a very long time. Would you excuse me?” she asked before slumping down in the corner of her seat and closing her eyes. 

“Not at all,” Monroe murmured, tipping his hat over his eyes, more or less doing the same. The bumping and bouncing kept anyone from getting any real sleep, but they did manage to doze on and off. Refreshed, he sat up to find Ms. Porter wide-eyed and wide awake as she watched him, sitting primly, hands clasped primly in her lap.

“It’ll be a blessing to get down and walk on solid ground again, she observed as the coach tossed her from side to side. 

“Have you traveled much in the west?” Bass asked. 

“Enough. I’ve just returned from Chicago.”

“Then I imagine you’re ready to be home.”

“Very much,” she replied, turning her head to watch the scenery.

* * *

“Willoughby Station coming up folks!” the driver called out to them, pulling to a stop, he set his brake. 

Opening the door as soon as it was safe, Bass jumped down and reached up to hand Miss Porter safely onto the ground. Looking up, Bass then caught the bags that the driver tossed his way. 

“Thank you so much, Mr. King. I appreciate your help today,” Miss Porter said taking her bag. 

“It’s been my pleasure ma’am.” Bass said touching his hat. “Perhaps we’ll see each other again.”

“Perhaps,” Miss Porter, replied, looking over her shoulder towards the establishment that stood across the street and the lone woman that was perched against the balustrade in nothing but her underthings and a robe, honey colored hair shimmering in the hot Texas sun. 

“Of course,” Bass nodded, tipping his hat with his fingers as she briskly walked away. 

“Where’s the best place to stay around here?” Bass asked the station master as he jotted down the time of their arrival and number of passengers. 

“Depends on what you’re looking for?” the man replied, looking at him over the glasses perched on his nose. 

“What about the place across the street? Does it let rooms?” 

“Duncan’s place? Sure does. ‘The Gilded Lily’ has a bar, casino, hotel and baths. Anything and everything a traveling man needs.”

“Sounds like my kind of place,” Bass replied, looking back up to the girl only to realize she had disappeared. Picking up his bag, he climbed the front steps of The Gilded Lily.

* * *

Charlie Matheson had been lying on her bed, feet slowly kicking in the warm Texas air when she heard the stagecoach rumbling down the main road of Willoughby. 

Stepping out onto the balcony, paper fan in hand to stir the air, Charlie propped her hip against the railing, watching as the lumbering beast came to a stop. She looked on with feigned indifference until the door opened and a man jumped down. Charlie watched him as he turned back to the coach and held out his hand, helping someone down. Charlie frowned when she realized it was her mother. They did not need this distraction right now, she thought, playing with the necklace she wore.

She watched as her mother glanced back in her direction and taking her bag hurried away. She hummed to herself as the man she had been speaking to turned in her direction, his eyes burning her skin. Charlie smiled seductively as she raked her eyes over his form. When he turned to speak to Ralph, Charlie drug herself back inside to dress.

* * *

From the outside, the Gilded Lily was an ordinary, three story structure, sun bleached and weather beaten. It had the usual broad porch lined with rocking chairs and a wide entryway with double doors that opened to his touch, just the way any big city hotel would. 

Just inside the front doors was a wide foyer with benches on either side, where someone might remove their outerwear or wait for a conveyance. From there, you passed through a floor to ceiling set of swinging doors and inside of that was pure opulence that surprised even Monroe. It was if a top notch whorehouse gave birth to a hotel lobby. 

The counter was complete with a pigeonhole rack for messages and a board with hanging room keys. The only difference was that the desk clerk was a woman. And oh, what a woman. 

“Good afternoon, Sir. Will you be checking in?” the curvy redhead asked.

“Yes, I do believe I will,” he replied, dropping his bag and leaning against the counter. 

She pushed a large ledger towards him and then pulled out a pen and a bottle of ink. “If you’d please sign in?”

Turning the book around, Bass chuckled as he glanced down the row of names to find the next empty line. Evidently everyone from Ulysses Grant to Daniel Boone had stayed at the Gilded Lily. However, X’s filled up most of the lines. Dipping the nib of the pen into the ink he carefully signed in as Jimmy King. 

Spinning the book around the to face herself the woman glanced down before giving him a friendly grin. “Welcome to the Gilded Lily, Mr. King. I’m Duncan Page, the manager. If you need anything, all you have to do is ask. I’ll have your bag taken to room eleven.” 

Tapping a bell on the counter, a young, blond-haired man appeared almost instantly. Coming round the counter, he picked up Monroe's carpet bag, only to disappear as silently as he’d come. 

“Refreshments and entertainment are right this way, Mr. King,” Duncan announced, holding out a hand for him to take.    
  
  


“Oh, my,” Bass said as he stepped through the doors which Duncan had just led him.

“Do you like it?” she asked.

“How could I not like it?” he replied with a toothy smile. “It’s every man’s dream come true.”

Duncan chuckled as she patted his arm. “That’s a very nice way to put it. Now if you’ll excuse me, Mr. King, I need to get back out front, but you do enjoy yourself.” With a bow of her head, she turned around and left. Watching her leave from the corner of his eye, he wondered if she performed any other duties here at the Gilded Lily.

Stepping up to the long, well-polished bar, Monroe, smiled at the barmaid. A young, pretty Latino who looked to have a very smart mouth. “And what’s your name, sweetheart?”

“I’m Mia, Mr. King. What would you like to drink?”

“Do you by chance have any Rye Whisky?”

“Yes sir. We have both Maryland and Pennsylvania.”

“Well isn’t this a surprise. I’ll take the Pennsylvania, please.”

Mia uncorked the bottle and poured a glass three fingers full, pushing the glass towards him. “Here you go.”

Picking up the glass, Monroe took a sip and sighed. It was as smooth as warm air. “Thank you,” he said, saluting the girl with his glass, turning to the side to take a look at the rest of the room.

The Gilded Lily offered nearly anything a man could want in the way of gambling. It also offered stunning women in every state of dress there could be. They wandered in and about the guests making themselves available If their company was wanted. Others sat across the room at small tables, chatting with guests that were taking a break from the games. It was then that a voice, low and decidedly feminine spoke from just behind him. “Enjoying yourself?”

Turning, Bass discovered the young woman who had been upstairs on the balcony, only now she was fully dressed, her hair artfully arranged. “Very much so, Miss…?”

“Goldsmith. You may call me Frannie.”

Taking the woman’s hand, Bass pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “How very lovely to meet you, Frannie.”

Charlie smiled, a dimple showing as her lashes fluttered against her pinking cheeks.

Bass was taken by surprised. It wasn’t often you found a female in this profession that could still blush. Taking the glass that Mia sat in front of her, Charlie took a sip. “Mmm, you have exquisite taste, Mr. king.”

Raking his eyes over her form, Bass grinned, flashing a wink. “I like to think so.”

Charlie laughed. “Is there anything we can interest you in? I saw you eyeing the poker tables.”

“I was considering partaking in a game, but I’d much rather visit with you for the moment.”

Charlie nodded taking another sip of her drink. “I saw you arrive earlier. Are you here on business?”

“Yes, actually. I’m a land prospector. I’m here to take a look at available properties, but I find myself intrigued by the Gilded Lily. What can you tell me about it?’

“The Gilded Lily was established to take care of every kind of man, by every kind of woman,” Charlie explained, looking around the room.

“And Ms. Page owns the place?’ Bass asked.

“No,” Charlie chuckled. “That’s a common enough misconception, though. The Gilded Lily is owned by all its employees,” she explained, looking around the room until a blond caught her eye. “Well, I’m sure I’ve taken enough of your time,” Charlie said setting her empty glass down on the bar, only for it to silently disappear as Mia walked by. “Enjoy your gaming.”

“Ms. Goldsmith-Frannie. Would you be available this evening?”

She bowed her head slightly. “I’ll meet you in the dining room at seven, if that’s acceptable?”

“Very,” Bass replied touching his fingers to his hat.

Charlie smiled big enough that he saw a dimple pop in her cheek and watched as she slowly made her way over to speak to an older, curly- haired blonde before heading towards the gaming tables. He walked around a few minutes and then decided on a poker table where a tall, lithe Latino, probably the barmaid’s sister, was dealing five card stud.

“Is there room for another?” he asked.

The dealer smiled. “It would be our pleasure if you were to join us, sir.”

Setting his glass down, Bass pulled out a cheroot and settled in.


	2. Chapter 2

Hours later, Bass finally threw his cards down and pushed them away. “Too rich for me,” he said, scooping his money off the table and dumping it into a pocket without bothering to count it. “Besides, I have a dinner engagement,” he smiled, tossing back the rest of his drink before standing and heading for the dining room.

“Mr. King,” Duncan said, holding out her hand for his hat. “If you’ll have a seat, I’ll let Frannie know that you’ve arrived.

“Thank you,” Bass replied, as impressed with the dining room as he was with the rest of the building. 

When Frannie arrived just a few moments later, he pushed to his feet, taking in a deep breath. He’s not sure he’d ever seen a lovelier sight.

She wasn’t dressed in the entrapment's of the day, wearing instead a starched floor length overcoat with a thin, low-cut gown. Her honey golden curls piled upon her head. 

“You look lovely,” Bass said as he rose from his chair and reached for her hand. 

With a tilt of her head, She gave him a smile as he brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against her knuckles before pulling her chair out for her to sit. 

“Thank you,” Charlie replied, holding a finger up to the server in the room. A few moments later, their dinner of steak and potatoes arrived.

“You have to love cattle country,” Bass commented with a wink in her direction as he settled a linen napkin over his lap.

“So, Mr. King, you’re here to look at properties?” Charlie asked

“Why yes I am. Being a Stagecoach hub makes the properties here very appealing to myself and my partners back in Austin.”

“Oh, Austin. Is that where you’re from?” 

“No, Not originally, but that’s where I ended up after the war. Which is probably about the time you were born.”

Charlie gave him a coy look. “Something like that,” she agreed, leading them into small talk about the bustling town and the weather. 

After their dinner was finished, they lingered over drinks as Bass smoked, When he was finished, he rose from his seat and helped her to her feet. “Would you like to come back to my room with me?”

Charlie took his hand as she got to her feet. “I’d like that very much.”

* * *

His hands slipped through her hair, knocking hair pins to the floor, the soft strands silky hair sifting through his fingers, curling around his wrist.

Her body pressed against him as he took her head in his hands and pressed his lips to hers. She hummed at the sensation and parted her lips, surprising him. He recovered quickly, though, exploring her mouth. She tasted sweeter than he expected. Tearing his lips away from hers, he moved to kiss the length of her neck and her soft chest above the delectably low neckline of her gown. 

Her small hands worked the buttons of his shirt, pushing it over his shoulders so her fingers could trace the contours of muscles, chuckling when they hit his money belt. “I think perhaps you’re overdressed, Sir,” she whispered. 

Bass grinned, kissing her roughly, before kicking off his boots and stripping his shirt the rest of the way off, tossing it to the floor before untying the money belt and dropping it on the nightside table. Turning his attention back towards her, he untied the overcoat of her dress, pushing it off her shoulders to land in a pile at her feet, before reaching out to slip the short sleeves of her dress down her arms, pleasantly surprised at the lack of any other clothing other than the slippers she slid off. 

Sitting down on the bed, and scooting back so her legs from her knees to her feet hung over the bed, she crooked her finger towards him. Taking a step forward, Bass tangled his fingers in her hair once again as she popped the buttons on his trousers, pulling those and his underpants down at the same time. Her eyes twinkle up at him as she reached out, taking his erection into her hand. Bending down, she took the head of his cock into the heat of her mouth. She sucked him for a moment before releasing him. 

“Is that alright?” she asked.

“Perfectly,” he replied with a one sided smile and hooded eyes as she rolled her tongue around the head before taking him into her mouth again while her free hand toyed with his balls. After just a few minutes, he pulled her off, pressing her back against the bed. Spreading her legs, he raked his eyes over her light brown curls and pale, pink pussy lips glistening in the lamplight. “Now  _ that _ is pretty,” he murmured, lowering his head for a taste.

* * *

Bass knelt between Charlie's legs, lifting her butt and hooked her legs over his shoulders. With her ass high off the bed. he plunged into her deeper than if he could have been lying on top of her.

Charlie gasped as she filled her, rocking her hips.

Bass pulled back slightly and took one blue veined tit in each hand as he lengthened his strokes. Charlie panted as she reached up, placing her hands over Bass’ and squeezed. Hard. He quickened his pace until he was slamming into her, the sound of his balls slapping against her ass filling the room. 

After a few moments she cried out his name, her pussy clenching tight around his cock. Letting go, he thrust forward one more time and holding himself deep inside her, groaned as he came, his body jerking in time with the spurts of cum leaving his body. 

With a grunt of pleasure, he lowered her legs off his shoulders and let her pretty ass down onto the bed. Collapsing next to her, he breathed in the scent of her shampoo. She didn’t object when he pulled the coverlet up over them.

* * *

“Will you be available again tonight?” Bass asked from where he lay in bed smoking, watching as Charlie pulled on her dress. 

“Unfortunately not. I have an engagement,” she explained as she slipped her shoes on. “However, I’d very much enjoy your company if you’d care to join me.” 

Bass frowned. “I’m not much of a voyager, but thank you.” 

Charlie gave him a strange look, before her face broke into a smile and she laughed causing his stomach to twist. “You misunderstand. I have a dinner engagement with my family and then I’m performing at the dance hall with Maggie,” she explained. 

“But I thought you worked here at The Gilded Lily, with Miss Page,” Bass replied, thoroughly confused. 

“Oh, no. I don’t work here,” Charlie laughed again. “However, I do choose to live here. It’s the only place in town outside of the dance hall that has a piano and everything is so much more relaxed here. My family is a bit too...prim for my liking.” She made her way to the door as she tied her overcoat. “I’ll be leaving at seven if you change your mind.” Flashing him a wink, she let herself out. Bass let out a huff. He’d never met a woman like Frannie in all his days. 

Lighting another cheroot, Bass stayed in bed, until he heard the bustle and clang of the kitchen below. After washing up for the day, he dressed and headed downstairs, having a leisurely breakfast. Afterwards, he went out onto the front porch and took a seat in one of the rockers there as he watched the activity up and down the street. 

After a few hours of just observing, he got to his feet and set out to explore the town. It was time to put those business cards to use. He thought he had managed to roughly cover half of the town, inquiring on every available business, home and parcel of land before heading back to The Gilded Lily. 

Entering the casino, he approached the girl at the front desk. 

“Mr. King, how may I help you?”

“Where might I hire a horse or rig around here. I anticipate needing some transportation tomorrow.”

“Which would you prefer?” the girl asked. “A buggy or saddle horse?”

“Since it’s just me, a saddle horse would probably do just fine.”

The girl dipped a pen in ink and made a note. “I’ll make sure one’s available for you first thing.” 

“Oh, and a bath? I think I’ll be stepping out this evening.”

“Of course. If you’d like to wait in the casino?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bass replied. 

The casino was just as busy now as it was yesterday. He recognized several of the men at the gaming tables. Some of which looked like they never went to bed. He was also just realizing that there were no windows in this part of the building. Had he not known it was daylight outside, he would have never guessed it from being in here. Smart, he thought. Keep it going around the clock. Walking over to the bar, he realized it was the same girl that helped him yesterday. 

“Your usual, Mr. King?’ she asked, reaching for the bottle of rye.

“Actually, would I be able to get a coffee?”

The girl smiled. “You can get anything here, Mr. King. Including coffee. It’ll take just a minute to have it brought over from the dining room.”

He nodded in understanding and turned back to the floor, watching the players. 

His coffee was delivered in no time, complete with cream and sugar if he desired. He was beginning to find it odd that no one had mentioned payment as of yet. He was on his third cup when Mia appeared in front of him at the bar. 

“Your bath is ready, Mr. King. If you’ll follow Daniel he’ll show you to the bathing room. 

With a tilt of his hat, Bass followed the young man up the stairs to a room with several tubs all in a row separated by privacy curtains. He was directed to the last tub in the room. Thanking the young man, Bass drew the curtain and striped, climbing into the steaming water with a groan.

* * *

Entering the lobby, Bass was floored by Frannie's appearance. “You are a vision, Miss Goldsmith,” he breathed with a small bow over her hand. 

“Why thank you Mr. King, you’re quite the handsome devil yourself,” she replied with a smile, taking his arm as they left The Gilded Lily and strolled down the planked sidewalks until they reached the steakhouse across the road from the dance hall. Entering the lamp lit building they were shown to a table already occupied by three other individuals.

“Mr. King, may I introduce my grandfather, Doctor Porter, his daughter, Miss Porter and Mr. Redman, a friend of the family. This is Mr. King, my escort for the evening.

“It’s a pleasure,” Bass commented, shaking the men's hands and nodding at Miss Porter. “I had the pleasure of sharing the coach here with Miss Porter,” Bass commented as he helped Charlie into her chair. 

“Oh, lucky you,” Charlie smiled. “Rachel is such an entertaining travel companion,” Charlie commented, watching her mother's lips transform into a straight line. 

“She was quite delightful,” Bass commented, not sure what to think of the unusual family dynamics. 

“Have you had a chance to hear Frannie sing yet, Mr. King? If not I can assure you’re in for a treat,” Mr. Redman commented.

“No. I didn’t even realize she was a performer until this morning.” 

“Well, we’ll make sure to leave early enough to get a good seat,” Mr. Redman assured him before they turned their attention to ordering their meal.

As Bass fell into conversation with her grandfather and Rachel, Charlie took a minute to speak to Miles. “DId you know she was coming home?” she asked softly, bringing her glass to her lips. 

“No,” Miles replied, his lips twisting into a grimace. 

Charlie flashed Bass a grin as he glanced towards her. “Is she going to be a problem?” 

“Absolutely not,” Miles reassured her. “And if she is, I’ll handle it.”

“See that you do,” Charlie respond, laying her napkin on the table as she urged her grandfather to pay the tab so they wouldn’t be late.

* * *

Frannie was still sleeping when Bass slid out from under the sheet that covered them. Moving as silently as he could, he dressed, then paused to consider the razor that lay in the bottom of his carpet bag. He definitely needed a shave, but if he whipped up some lather, he was bound to wake the girl in his bed, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. She looked positively angelic as she lay there sleeping peacefully after last nights not so angelic activities. 

Surely Willoughby had a barber. He’d also be a good source of local information. 

Satisfied that was enough of an excuse to allow the girl to continue sleeping, he picked up his boots up and tiptoed out into the hallway, stopping to pull them on, before making his way downstairs.

“Morning,” he greeted the beautiful young lady behind the counter.

“Good morning, Mr. King,” she responded with a sunny smile. 

“I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of the barber shop?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied, giving him proper directions.

Tipping his hat to the girl, he wandered outside and made his way slowly to the barber.

* * *

“Just a shave this morning, please,” Bass requested as he settled into the barber's chair.

“If you don't mind me mentioning it, you could use a trim, too,” said the barber, a balding man of middle years. 

“All right then, the shave and a trim.”

The barber covered Bass with a striped sheet and then tilted the chair back and stomped on the pedal to raise it. 

Bass leaned back, closed his eyes and relaxed.

“You're a stranger round these parts,” the barber commented. 

“Yes,” Bass replied, popping one eye open. I’m in land speculation. I’ve come down here to see what's available. Anything I might be able to turn a profit on.”

“Uh huh,” the barber muttered as he whipped up some lather in a soap mug before dipping the brush in. 

Bass could feel the light cold touch of the lather on his face and neck. 

Picking up his razor, the barber stepped closer using his thumb to stretch Bass’ skin. The man had a feather-light touch with the razor. Bass could hear the razor, more than fill it as it passed over his skin. Every so often he would stop to wipe the razor on a towel before he continued. All in all it was a pleasant experience. 

“Say, does this town by chance have a Sheriff?” Bass asked as the barber returned him to an upright position, having wiped his face with a warm towel. 

“Sure does. Sheriff Gray.”

“What do you think of him?”

“Salt-of-the-earth,” the barber said, picking up a pair of scissors. “You won't find a better man anywhere than Sheriff Gray. He's honest as the day is long. Anything he tells you you can take to the bank.”

“Thanks, that's good to know,” Bass responded as the man began to trim his hair. The man's opinion of Grey was interesting. Time would tell he supposed.

* * *

His morning shave out of the way, Bass returned to the hotel for a delayed breakfast. Once he was done he headed to the front desk to ask about the status of the horse he had requested yesterday.

“Ahh, Mr. King. Just the man I wanted to see,” Duncan Paige said as he approached her. 

“What can I do for you, Miss Page?” 

“I was wondering if you minded settling your tab to date. We hate for the bill to get out of hand and people to be surprised,” she explained. 

“That’s not a problem. I'll run up to my room and get some cash. How much will it be?”

“Seventy-five dollars.”

“All right. I'll be right back.” Bass was wearing the money belt, heavy with gold coins, but he didn't think it would be a good idea to drop his trousers in the middle of the lobby. Better to have a little privacy. Returning to his room, he found Frannie gone and the room freshened up. Closing the door behind him, Bass got to his money, pulling out the coins for the bill and a couple more to pay for a few days in advance. 

Returning downstairs, he paid his bill and finally inquired about his horse. 

* * *

Heading out to the barn behind The Gilded Lily, where he was assured he would find a horse, he was pleased to find a deep gray mare. 

Saddling her, he gave the feet a quick once over, making sure the iron shoes were all properly set before dropping the stirrups off the saddle. 

She swayed a bit when his butt hit the saddle, but made no effort to buck, so, touching his spurs lightly to her flank, moved her out to a slow walk. 

He had no particular destination in mind since he wanted to give the impression that he was looking at land in the vicinity, so he stopped at the cafe to buy a sandwich and a canteen of coffee before resuming his journey to nowhere. 

He took the road West out of town. He only intended to ride ten miles or so out of Willoughby and then find a comfortable place where he could pull up out of the sun for a few hours while he rested up from last night's exertions. 

He had gone perhaps seven or eight miles and was lost in thought about a certain golden haired beauty when his musings were interrupted by a shout of “Stand and Deliver!” from behind a clump of trees. 

Bass pulled his horse to a stop and found himself looking down the twin barrels of a large bore shotgun, not to mention a pair of Winchester carbines. The robbers wore linen dusters that covered them from head to toe. They also wore a flour sack mask over their heads. 

The only thing about them that Bass could see were their weapons, and those were all cocked and held at the ready. They had dispersed so that two were on one side of the road and the other on the opposite behind him. There was no way he could fight back without getting blown out of the saddle.

“Unbuckle your gun belt and drop it on the right side of the horse!” One of them ordered.

Bass complied, not happy about it, but having no other choice in the matter.

“Now the Derringer!” the same voice ordered.

_ Son of a bitch! _ Bass thought as he fished the Derringer out and dropped it into the loose sand on the side of the road. 

“You can get down now!” the voice instructed. “Just stay away from those guns.”

Bass grunted and carefully dismounted making sure to keep his hands in plain sight. 

“Now, loosen your trousers!”

“What?” Bass blurted. “You want my breeches, too?”

“We don't want the trousers, Mister, but we sure want the money belt you got inside them!”

So, the bastards knew about the Derringer and now they knew about his money belt, too. _ Well, shit. _

“You can take it off for us,” the voice called out, “or we can take it off your dead body. Your choice, Mister.”

Fuming, Bass loosened his belt and unbuttoned his trousers, unfastening the money belt and pulled it out.

“Just toss it down!” the voice instructed.

With a mulish look on his face, Bass complied. Once it was out of his hands, the robber that had done all the talking so far, reached up to touch the brim of an imaginary hat with a nod of his head.

“Thank you, sir. You are free to leave in peace now.”

As he swung up onto the mare, the one in charge spoke once again. 

"We'll leave the gun belt and the Derringer a half mile down the road. Don't try to follow us or you might get shot or something. Ride back towards town a mile or so, then you can turn and head west again.” 

Swinging the mare back towards Willoughby, Bass put her into a slow walk away from the trio of Highwaymen 


	3. Chapter 3

Bass Monroe had had better days than this one.

On top of everything else, he pricked his thumb with a cactus spine while he was retrieving the Derringer from where the robbers had tossed it. He checked the loads in both guns, but those had not been disturbed. 

He looked around trying to see if he could spot the robbers, but the bastards were long gone along with the money belt containing roughly one thousand dollars of the government's money

He could replace the cash, it was only money after all, and Frank had already provided for that possibility before he ever left Austin, but dammit, how was he supposed to explain this humiliation?

In his pocket he still had sixteen and a half dollars, but that was far from enough. With a sigh, Bass coaxed the mare into a trot, heading back towards town. He’d have to stop at the telegraph office and wait for a draft to take to the bank. He also needed another visit with those robbers. He needed to find those sons of bitches and put every one of them in irons. Especially the smart-ass with the shotgun. He wanted that bastard to know exactly who was taking him in.

* * *

Once he reached town he went straight to the telegraph office and sent his message asking Frank for more money. 

“Check back this afternoon,” The telegrapher told him. “I’ll get the message out right away. It should reach Austin inside an hour. After that, who knows when or if they’ll answer,” he shrugged. “But two hours is probably the earliest you can expect a reply.”

“All right, thanks,” Bass replied, taking off his hat and swiping at his brow. Wanting to stay nearby, he turned to the operator once more. “Any idea where I can get a decent meal close by?”

“There’s a Mexican Cantina just around the corner. Best enchiladas you’ve ever had and they’ve got plenty of cerveza as well.”

Thanking the man, Bass headed in that direction.

Entering the Cantina, he went inside and found an empty table. 

When the waiter arrived to take his order, Bass asked for enchiladas and a cerveza. The man nodded and hurried away. 

The meal turned out to be just as tasty as the telegrapher had suggested. Paying his bill, he decided he might as well wander around this part of town looking for available properties.

* * *

When Bass finally arrived at the bank, the two male employees were in a tizzy over word of a bank robbery in Eastland the previous evening. Evidently they’d used some type of explosive to blow the vault wide open. 

Bass asked the men to repeat the story as he counted his money, tucking it into his inside vest pocket, listening carefully to all the details. He also took the opportunity to ask them about some of the previous robberies that had happened. They sounded a lot like the assholes that had robbed him this morning. Which reminded him. He needed to stop by the general store and pick up a new money belt.

* * *

Returning to The Gilded Lily, he requested a bath and that dinner be sent to his room. He also asked that if Frannie were in, she be told of his return. 

Arriving in his room, he took a change of clean clothes and headed to the bathing room. It was there, as he was undressing, that it occurred to him that Frannie knew about his money belt, and so had the robbers this morning. They knew and had targeted him on purpose. 

So, it was likely that one way or another at least one of the girls at The Gilded Lily were involved with the robbery gang. Had Frannie mention the money belt in passing to the wrong person or was she feeding information purposely to someone. He had much to think about as he slid into the warm water of his bath.

* * *

It seemed as though Gray was in fact innocent of any suspicions. From everything he’d put together at this point it appeared as though the gang of robbers were deliberately luring Gray away from their crimes so he’d not have time to interfere. It also meant that his job here was done. He’d been sent to to find out about Gray and he had. But dammit, he’d been robbed and made a fool of. The idea of walking away and letting those sons of bitches to get with it was just too much to swallow.

They knew Gray and were able to keep him from catching them. They also had something to do with The Gilded Lily and that was the detail that had kept Gray from finding them all this time. He could simply tip off Gray and return to Austin right now. Hell, that’s what Frank would expect him to do now that his assignment was complete. 

But, no. Even if he had to pay his own way from here on out, he was going to stay and see every last one of those bastards behind bars. 

He considered moving hotels, but that would keep him from whomever was allied with the gang of robbers. At least one of the female employees was involved with the gang. There was no other explanation. Frannie had either knowingly or inadvertently commented on his money belt. Perhaps she had been forced to relay the information to Duncan Page, in order to keep their arrangement for Frannie to live here. Stepping out onto the porch to smoke, he inadvertently bumped into Heather and Daniel. The only male employed by The Gilded Lily. They jumped apart when they saw him, the boy’s face turning red. Whispering something to the girl, Daniel back away and disappeared into the hotel.

“Heather,” Bass greeted with a finger to his hat as he lit his cheroot. “I didn’t think that you girls were allowed to have any male suitors of the non-paying kind? Except for Ms. Goldsmith of course.”

“Are you gonna tell?” The girl asked, looking up at him from beneath her lashes.

“That depends,” Bass replied, eyeing the girl. “What do you tell Ms. Page about the customers?”

“Pardon?” Heather asked looking at him quizzically.

“Does Ms. Page want to know anything about your customers? What they have in their pockets, for instance? Or their money belts?”

“I…I don’t know anything about that.” Heather replied.

“You’re lying,” he snapped.

“But I’m not!”

“Then who do you tell?” Bass demanded.

“I can’t tell you that, Mister. They might kill me if I do.”

“And I might kill you if you don’t,” Bass growled causing the girl to blanche.

* * *

The next morning, he accompanied Frannie downstairs for breakfast where they chatted over oat porridge and coffee before going their separate ways for the day. Bass was determined to keep up his cover for the time being, so, saddling his horse, he headed out of town to nowhere in particular. 

He returned to the hotel around mid-day, enjoying a late supper before hitting the gaming tables in the casino as he thought over his case. He finally decided that what he needed was some way to predict where and when the robbers would show up again. Smiling, he downed the rest of his rye and tossed his cards in, collecting his coins. “It’s been a pleasure, gentlemen, he commented as he rose from his seat and walked away.

Arriving at the Sheriff’s house, he introduced himself and was invited in. “Have a seat,” Sheriff Gray insisted. “No one will bother us in here,”

“I’m interested in this gang of robbers working down here,” he explained relaying his own experience with them. “I know they’ve been running you off an about so they’re free to pull their robberies, but I think I can help.”

“How so?” the sheriff asked.

“I figure the next time you’re called out somewhere, you should let me know. The problem is that it can’t look like we’re working together. I’ll pass off today as reporting my robbery to you but we can’t have folks wondering. Better I keep my distance.”

Sheriff Gray nodded, sitting back in his seat. “Leave it to me.”

Returning to the hotel, Bass continued with his day and his evening, most of which was spent with Frannie.

* * *

It was three days later when the message came in the form of a breathless little boy who ran up onto the porch of The Gilded Lily, leaned over and whispered, “He’s been summoned to a ranch East of town,” before holding out a small box containing cheroots from a nearby mercantile. Bass reached into his pocket for a coin, giving it to the boy for his trouble.

Taking the coin, the boy disappeared the way he had come.

Walking around back to the stable, Bass saddled the mare that he had been using since his arrival and pulled out the Sheriff’s shotgun that he had hidden. Pulling out his pocket watch, Bass checked the time. An eastbound stage coach was another three hours out, but the westbound coach would be passing through in about fifteen minutes. Hauling himself up onto the saddle, Bass headed west out of town.

He road out about a mile and made his way off the side of the road into a small grove of trees until he was hidden from the road, settling in to wait. It wasn’t long before he heard the creak and sway of the stagecoach as it passed. Waiting until the dust of it’s passage had settled, Bass rode back onto the road and set the mare into a trot, following behind enough to keep pace with it but not catch up.

He’d been following along for a good half hour and was beginning to think that maybe this was a wild goose chase and the emergency out East was genuine when three figures appeared in the road ahead of the coach. All three dressed in a flour hood and floor length duster, brandishing a weapon. He couldn’t hear what they were saying but got the gist of it regardless as the stagecoach driver pulled the team to a halt and threw his shotgun to the ground. Putting his spurs to the mare, she jumped into a run as Bass pulled out his borrowed shotgun.

He was fifty yards out, still too far to fire on them with the shotgun when he heard a gunshot from his right and a swarm of pellets skittered past his head. Reining the mare hard to the right, Bass charged straight for the hooded figure. Standing in his stirrups so he’d miss the mare, he pulled the trigger on the shotgun. The duster-covered robber was thrown back off his feet, his entire torso torn and bloody.

Hauling the mare to a stop, Bass dropped the shotgun and grabbed his forty-five.

Unfortunately the damage had been done and now alerted to his presence, the other three began firing at him, causing the horse to shy away, tucking tail and trying to run. By the time Bass got her under control the robbers had disappeared into the brush. Racing forward once again, he could hear the hoofbeats as the gang made their escape.

Pulling up beside the coach, he checked on the driver and passengers. 

“I’m sure glad you came when you did,” One well-dressed man commented. “I just sold a whole bunch of cattle. They would have cleaned me out.”

Bass eyed the man. “You by chance spend any time at The Gilded Lily?"

The man grinned. “Why yes, I did.”

And that explained that, Bass thought.

Walking back to the where he had shot the fourth robber, Bass called back to the coach for some help getting the body onto his horse. While he waited, he knelt beside the body and pulled the man’s hood off. Only it wasn’t a man.

“Well hell, Mister. That’s Mia. She spent last night with me.

Bass shook his head. His suspicions were confirmed.

* * *

Arriving back at The Gilded Lily, Bass tied his mare up to the hitching post and carried what was left of Mia up onto the front porch before going inside.

“I’m going to need to see Miss Page,” he told the blonde behind the counter.

“Is it important? I should be able to handle any problem you might have.”

“Not this,” Bass replied, pulling out his badge. “You tell Miss Page that Marshall Sebastian Monroe wants to see her.

“Right away,” the blonde answered, disappearing into the back. She returned less than a minute later with Duncan Page on her heels. “Your girl Mia’s out on the porch.”

Duncan frowned. “Well then she’s late. She was scheduled to go on duty at eight.”

“That’s gonna be a might difficult considering that she’s dead.”

“Dead?” Duncan questioned.

Mmmhmm, Very. She and some others tried to hold up the stagecoach this afternoon. Mia took a double load of buckshot. The others got away. More of your girls, perhaps?

“I hardly think so,” Duncan replied coolly.

“Maybe, Maybe not. She’ll be out front for you to take care of,” he replied before leaving to take his mare around to the barn and to fetch the Sheriff.

* * *

Returning to The Gilded Lily later that evening, Bass and Grey approached the desk. “Duncan Page. We’ll see her now, if you please.”

“Yes sir, right away sir,’ the redhead said, putting aside the ledger she had been working on and and scurried towards the back of the hotel.

Duncan Page emerged almost immediately without the redhead.

“Gentlemen. Haven't you already caused me enough grief for one day?” Duncan asked.

“Were taking you and every employee into custody for questioning,” Grey explained.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand what this is all about. What is it you want from me?”

“We need to interview all of your people, so round em up and lets get underway.”

“I have customers that I can’t just leave unattended,” Duncan protested.

“You can and you will or I’ll charge you with obstruction,” Grey threatened.

Duncan's eyes narrowed as she weighed her options.

Bass was tired of waiting. "The casino room is big enough to hold everyone. We’ll take them out and talk to them one at a time. They’ll either be turned loose or put in irons."

“Very well,” Duncan sighed. “It’ll take a minute.”

“How’s your Spanish?" Gray asked Bass. 

"Lousy, why?”

“I’ll talk to the kitchen help and cleaning women, then. They’re more likely to speak freely in their own language.

"Sounds sensible to me," Bass agreed as they waited.


	4. Chapter 4

Once everyone was gathered in the Casino, Bass looked over at Gray. “You got a jail here?” 

Gray shook his head. “No. When I have a prisoner I transport them over to Eastland.”

“You got enough irons for more than one prisoner?” Bass asked

“I do. Back at the house. Do you really think they’ll be necessary?”

Bass nodded. “They feel that steel snap closed, they’re gonna get scared. That and taking them away from their home will put the fear into ’em.”

“Alright. I’ll go get the irons and something to transport them in.” Gray agreed.

* * *

Once Gray returned, carrying the promised irons, he stopped at the entrance to the room and waited there as Bass made his move.

“Nora Clayton!” Bass called out searching for the Latino woman in the crowd which did his work for him, parting to reveal her standing behind the bar. 

“Nora Clayton. You’re under arrest for highway robbery. Present yourself, please.”

“Me?” Nora asked her hand fluttering around her nearly exposed bosom. “I assure you, sir, I have no idea what you’re speaking of.”

“I beg to disagree, Madam. Now please. Don't make me get rough with you.”

“Well, if you insist...just let me get…” she said, reaching under the counter. 

“Oh shit,” Bass mumbled as Nora brought out a stubby, sawed off, double-barreled scatter-gun. 

“No!” he shouted, but it was too late. 

Nora brought the gun level and tripped one of the triggers. The left barrel belched smoke, flame and lead shot. 

The load of goose shot struck Gray in the left arm and high on his left side, spinning him around and making him drop the irons with a loud crash.

It was too late, but by then, Bass had his .45 in play.

Before the girl could swing the other barrel in his direction, he pulled the trigger. 

Bass’ slug hit Nora in her ribs on the right side. It threw her back against the shelf of bottles and glassware and she dropped out of sight behind the bar as the room was thrown into chaos. 

Bass looked back at Gray who had his revolver out and was covering the rest of the room. Running towards the bar, he skidded around the bar only to find Frannie and Maggie already by Nora’s side, tending to her injury. 

She had a dime sized hole in her flesh, oozing blood and she was pale and weak. Who knew what kind of damage the bullet had done, but from the looks of her, she would be dead within minutes.

“Help us, please!” Frannie begged looking up at him.

Bending down, Bass picked the woman up and laid her gently on the bar as Maggie climbed up beside her.

“Tell me his name, Nora,” Bass demanded, as Maggie worked frantically over her.

“You son of a bitch,” Nora hissed in his direction, turning her head towards Frannie who was gripping her hand. 

“Tell him-tell him I love him,” the older woman requested of Frannie, taking Bass by surprise. 

Nora was struggling for breath and her skin had taken on the waxy pallor of death as Frannie cried over her, stroking the hair on her head. 

“He knows” Frannie assured her, as Nora took her last breath. 

Lips flattening into a thin line, Bass grabbed a crying Frannie by the arm. “You’re coming with me. You too,” he ordered Maggie, who was wiping her bloody hands off on her skirt.

Grabbing the irons, Gray deposited them on a nearby table as Bass drug the women over, dumping them onto a chair. Taking the cuffs, he bound each woman. 

“You and I have a lot to talk about,” Bass said, glaring down at Frannie who looked up at him tearfully, but remained silent. 

“Hate to do this to you, but I won’t be able to make the trip,” Gray informed him.” I’ll help you get them loaded up and then I’ll head on over to Doc Porter’s house. Let him know what's going on.”

As they talked, neither noticed Daniel slipping way into the kitchens.

* * *

Taking the two women by the arms, Bass escorted them out of The Gilded Lily as Gray followed behind them, weapon in hand. 

As it turned out, Gray had procured a fortified wagon to transport the women in. As angry as he he had been at the possibility of Frannie being involved in the robberies, he could see that she and Maggie were both visibly shaken by Nora’s death and relents, releasing them from the irons as he helps them into the back of the wagon. 

They were clinging to each other as Bass shut the door and slid the latch into place. He never saw Charlie pulling open her bodice as she and Maggie worked to remove the steel boning from her corset. 

He doesn’t even realize they’ve escaped until he reaches Eastland.

* * *

6 months later

Bass was dining on quail at Dick Bulion’s restaurant, with Frank and his latest mistress when a lilt of laughter reached his ears. Looking around, Bass searched the nearby tables until his eyes landed upon a familiar face. 

“You alright, Monroe?” Frank asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I might just have,” he breathed, pushing to his feet without explanation. 

The woman’s back was to him, but Bass knew he’d never forget the lines of her throat or the tilt of her head. 

Approaching the table, Bass came to a stop beside the woman. “Frannie?”

As conversation at the table stopped, the woman beside him slowly rose her head to meet his eyes, tilting it quizzically, before looking to the man beside her. 

“I’m afraid you’ve confused me with someone else,” Frannie said gently with a soft smile on her face as the man beside her got to his feet, holding out his hand. 

“Miles Matheson, lately of Chicago,” he introduced himself.

Bass bit his tongue, as every single piece of the puzzle fell into place, reaching out to take the man’s hand. “U.S. Marshall Sebastian Monroe.”

“Marshall,” Miles repeated with a nod of his head. “May I introduce my niece, Charlotte Matheson. We’ve only recently made the move west, so, as my niece said, you’ve obviously mistaken her for someone else.”

Bass stared down at the woman until the other ladies at the table began to twitter before holding out his hand. 

Charlie placed the tips of her fingers against his, holding her breath as he bowed slightly, bringing her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss against her knuckles. 

“My apologies, Miss Matheson. The resemblance to my acquaintance is quite uncanny. "

Charlie smiled flirtatiously. “Whoever she is she’s a very lucky woman.”

Bass lowered his head in acknowledgement.  “My friends and I were just about to head over to Millet’s Opera House for tonight’s performance. Would you care to join us?”

“Unfortunately, we have other plans,” Miles answered for her, earning a glare.

“That’s too bad,” Bass replied. “Well, it was lovely to meet you. Perhaps we’ll meet again.”

“Perhaps,” Charlie replied as Miles stuck out his hand once again. 

“Enjoy your evening, Marshall.”

Bass nodded and returned to his table, where Frank and Lulu were waiting for him.

* * *

Taking their seat in Frank's Opera Box, Bass accepted a drink from the attendant. His heart was still racing from his chance meeting with Frannie-no, Charlotte. Charlotte Matheson. 

He had searched for Frannie Goldsmith for months after her escape to no avail. He’d never thought to search for Stu Redman as well. He chuckled under his breath with a shake of his head as he took a drink from his glass. Nothing to be done now, he supposed. Even if she was in the same town as he was, he had no idea where to find her. 

They were well into the second act, when the door of the box opened and cool fingers traced his neck along the top of his collar before a swath of frothy material appeared in the chair next to him. 

Turning his head, he reached out to wrap an artfully displayed ringlet around his finger as he met her eyes. 

With a nod of his head, Bass dropped his hand into her lap, clasping her hand in his own, before looking back towards the stage with a smile. 

With a breathy sigh, Charlie held his hand tightly as she straightened in her chair and turned her attention to the stage, unable to bite back her own smile as she leaned into his shoulder. 

~Fin~


End file.
